Bathtime
by MaggieMay19
Summary: This story is set between 'Bloodshot' (S1 E16) and 'Russet Potatoes' (S1 E18). I always felt Grace Van Pelt did a lot of growing up between these episodes. Rated T for the themes, not the language.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I imagined this taking place in Season 1, broadly spanning the time from 'Bloodshot' (S1 E16) to 'Russet Potatoes' (S1 E18).

Grace Van Pelt sat in the foamy bathtub, surrounded by scented candles. She'd chosen this apartment because the shower was over a bathtub. She liked to shower before bed, wash away the grime and the crime, but she had always preferred the luxurious feeling of wallowing in a bath. Even as a child she'd loved taking a bath, pretending she was diving under the sea like Princess Ariel. The candles and scent and bubbles made the bath her happy place, somewhere she could truly relax, put the day's anxieties behind her.

Except now they didn't.

She was sitting bolt upright, tense, stressed and quietly fuming to herself.

Damn Patrick Jane! She'd been taking baths every evening since they'd closed the James Medina case. They'd help her get to sleep but she still woke just as upset the next morning, spent every spare minute of the following day thinking about it.

_'You're deeply repressed and emotionally shut down.'_

She'd never thought of herself as repressed or emotionally shut down until that moment. Oh she wasn't stupid, she knew herself, she'd called it "able to distance herself from the emotional fallout of the job" in her CBI interview. Whenever a boyfriend had talked about getting more serious she'd told him she "wanted to get her career established first." Cool-headed and ambitious sounded much better than deeply repressed and emotionally shut down.

_'Because of a trauma in your past' _

She'd gotten over Dan Hollenbeck pretty quickly. One date didn't make a relationship. She'd mostly felt embarrassment about being fooled by him. It took a while longer for her to get over her guilt about him beating up Wayne, but as the cuts and bruises faded so her feelings for him returned to their usual mix of friendship and attraction. Her horror and shame about Dan murdering James Medina, his attempt on Jane's life were all mixed up with her horror and shame at Jane's words. The confusion had made her angry with herself – with Jane – which only made her feel worse.

_'That you've never spoken of' _

The man had been blind at the time, she knew she ought to have felt sympathy but all she had been able to think had been thank goodness he couldn't see the effect his words were having. Though she was in no doubt he knew anyway. He'd apologised, said he was just thinking out loud. Oh, like that makes it OK then! Every time she thought she was starting to become immune to his mentalising crap he'd pull a stunt like this. He got under her skin all right, like emotional poison oak and she just couldn't stop scratching.

'_To anyone' _

He had confronted her about being cool-headed and ambitious – oh all right, about being repressed and emotionally shut down – and in saying why almost as an aside he had rooted out… something bad. She couldn't get it out of her mind, whenever she had a spare moment there it was, fragments and blackness and uncertainty. That was the worst part. She really had no idea what had happened and it was driving her crazy. From her current perspective as a cop with some experience of life's seedy underside she suspected it was nothing good and she couldn't leave the thought alone, like probing a painful tooth or picking at a scab. No, she'd called it: like scratching at a poison oak rash.

_'Ever.' _

She'd thought she had forgotten the whole sorry saga but no, Jane had effortlessly unearthed it with just a few choice words, said it explained her sad and sorry emotional life. The worst thing was that he was right. She had never made that connection but as soon as he'd said it she had realised that it did explain an awful lot of the last five years.

_'Even yourself.' _

Damn Jane! This was all his fault. The bath had made her sleepy but she knew that she would wake up angry again in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Grace Van Pelt sat bolt upright in her bath. She'd put extra bath foam in tonight, the bubbles floated on the water almost up to the rim so wallowing wasn't really an option, she told herself. She'd lit even more candles this evening, put them on plates all over the bathroom floor and the whole room had an attractive glow that she had hoped would be more relaxing than it in fact was. The bath had always been her special place. As usually happened, her thoughts strayed to Princess Ariel and pretending the bath was the ocean when she was little. Then, as night follows day her thoughts span around to the reason for all the stress.

_'You're deeply repressed and emotionally shut down.'_

She hadn't thought about it for years, her weird college freshman party blackout had never crossed her mind until now. Her focus had been on learning stuff, passing exams, getting good grades. After college she'd been accepted on the police graduate fast track programme, she had loved training to be a cop but even when they'd covered all the different classifications of assault she hadn't associated any of them with her experience. She'd been delighted when she heard her application to Serious Crimes in Sacramento had been accepted. No-one gossips like cops, news like Patrick Jane got around and she'd heard the same rumours as everyone else. The other trainees had mocked her wanting to join "the psychic squad" but she'd been intrigued by the setup and keen to join the team with the best closure rate in the state. She had always been ambitious.

_'Because of a trauma in your past' _

Ambitious, that was what she'd told herself. She really had always wanted to become a detective, she really _was_ ambitious. She'd told herself that there was nothing wrong with having fun but she was too young for serious relationships, she wanted to be established in her job before she even thought about settling down with someone. She now realised she'd been running away from commitment and lying to herself that it was all about ambition. Jane had dug it all up again with a thoughtless handful of words and she wasn't sure she would ever be free of it again. At the time she had pretended it hadn't happened, locked it all away. Now she wondered why she couldn't do that again.

_'That you've never spoken of'_

She recalled being at the party at college, feeling like she was about to pass out. She'd had bruises on her shins and forearms but she remembered stumbling on the stairs, didn't she? Yes definitely, the sensation in her mind was of falling, landing on hands and knees, her face up close with the stair treads. Why had she felt she wasn't alone in that moment? She didn't remember seeing anyone, had heard no voice, felt no touch. Then she'd woken up next morning in bed in her dorm room, alone but naked under the bedclothes, her clothes dumped in a heap on the floor. She remembered finding them there next to her bed the following day. That was uncharacteristic, she usually slept in pyjamas, usually put her clothes away or threw them into the hamper. Would suddenly being taken ill make her behave so differently?

'_To anyone' _

She couldn't get the idea out of her head that she might have been drugged and… with no other phrase to offer the cop inside her head thought "sexually assaulted". No, there would have been evidence, she would surely have spotted something on the bedclothes the next morning or remembered something happening to her… If she had just been taken ill why did she only remember such small fragments, why would illness make her lose her sense of trust? The thoughts kept going round and round in her mind without ever coming to any conclusions. How could she get it all out of her head? Where would she even start?

_'Ever' _

Damn Jane! Why did his words get to her so much?

_'Even yourself'_


	3. Chapter 3

Grace Van Pelt relaxed in the foamy bathtub, surrounded by scented candles. She had always loved the luxurious feeling of wallowing in a bath, the scent of lavender was helping her feel calm and the soft warm glow of all the candles made the room seem cosy. She thought about how much she'd enjoyed baths as a child, smiled at the recollection of how she used to pretend she was diving with Princess Ariel under the sea.

"Under the sea," she sang, slightly off-key. "Under the sea! Darling it's better, down where it's wetter, take it from me!" She actually chuckled to herself as the tune carried on bouncing round in her head.

Here, surrounded by the candles and scent and bubbles, she was in her happy place. She felt truly relaxed.

'_You're deeply repressed and… something…'_

It had been one hell of a case. The idea of being hypnotised had always freaked her out, she didn't like to think of someone getting into her head and just taking over like that. Jane had said that no-one could be made to do something against their nature, that a hypnotised saint would always be a saint. What would an atheist like him know about saints? Saints in the bible weren't naturally good all the time. Saint Peter denied Jesus three times, Saint Paul started out persecuting the early Christians. Sunday school had taught her that saints were flawed human beings who made a conscious choice to do good things. She suspected saints would be as open to wrongdoing as anyone else when under hypnosis. She liked to think of herself as one of the good guys but didn't want to imagine what she might be capable of when hypnotised.

'_Because of… something… in the past'_

The scariest part had been when Wayne beat up Dr. Daniel. She had seen him bring down, arrest and even shoot people, but she'd never thought of him as a violent person. In spite of her misgivings about hypnotism she'd been rather relieved when they discovered that Wayne hadn't gone mad, he'd just been hypnotised. Although seeing how easily someone could take control of a state agent like that had shaken her. For the first time in weeks she'd actually felt glad that Jane was on the team. The way he'd taken it seriously rather than being mocking and ironic had surprised her. He'd remained completely unruffled by it all and she had found his matter-of-fact attitude very reassuring.

'_That… something…'_

It had been embarrassing too, of course. Jane had probably known Wayne would want to kiss her, he probably thought it would be funny. It had actually been nice, in a way, though it would have been nicer if it had happened somewhere other than in the office in front of her boss. More than nice, in fact. Wayne might have been in a trance but he'd still been pretty good at kissing. An uninhibited Wayne was, well, he might be off-limits in real life, but in the confines of her head it could be very different. She grinned to herself.

'_Something…'_

Her mind drifted to when she went to pick up Dr. Daniel for questioning and she felt triumphant. That had been so good. If it had happened even just a month ago Daniel would definitely have caused a sleepless night or two. He had done his best to get under her skin, trying to manipulate her, wheedle information out of her. He'd tried flattery then he'd tried using her looks against her. He'd spotted the same things in her that Jane had when he'd been blind. Daniel hadn't got it right like Jane had, though. He'd called her an over-ambitious small-town girl, shut down to everything but the job, afraid that someone might find her out. Yes, even just a month ago that would have worked. Instead for those few glorious moments she had found herself feeling invulnerable. He'd been trying really hard and the only effort she'd had to make was not to laugh in his face.

'_Under the sea'_

She wasn't a small-town girl trying to make her way in the big city any more. She had made her way, she was an officer of the law, that's who she was and who she wanted to be. Her past didn't have to define her, her present could do that. She'd felt very proud of herself in that moment. "I've been working with Patrick Jane for nine months now. You want to get under my skin? You're gonna have to up your game." She hadn't planned it as a put-down, she had simply voiced her thoughts. She had seen what he was up to and had been genuinely unimpressed. Working with Jane had obviously been an education in more ways than one. He hadn't just been messing with her, he'd toughened her up and she hadn't even realised it until then. Poor Daniel had seemed completely bewildered. He probably hadn't failed that badly for a long time.

'_Under the sea'_

She'd been angry with Jane and herself for too long. She now realised she didn't need to be. Jane got under everyone's skin. She coped pretty well and was getting better at it. Afterwards she had gone back to the office and seen Jane reading on his couch. She'd briefly thought about going over and saying what had happened, thanking him but she'd swiftly thought better of it. She still couldn't put into words exactly what she wanted to thank him for. Being Jane he probably already knew. Anyway she'd seen how much he hated being thanked. She didn't need to understand why in order to appreciate that it was true and act accordingly.

_Darling it's better, down where it's wetter, take it from me!"_

"Darling it's better, down where it's wetter, take it from me!" she sang out loud again. That was going to be an earworm for a while, she could tell. Still, as these last few weeks had demonstrated there were worse things to have rattling around in your head. Maybe that explained Jane. He must have worse things rattling around in his head all the time. You could see the despair sometimes, she always found it very disturbing when she did though he usually hid it well. That must be a conscious decision that he makes all the time, she mused, and a notion suddenly tickled her.

Like a saint.

She couldn't help herself, the absurdity of the idea had caught her unawares and the laughter just burst out of her. She laughed and laughed until she could barely breathe, until her sides hurt and the tears streamed down her face and still she laughed, couldn't stop herself, bubbles and water sloshing over the sides of the bath and her laughter making the bathroom ring. She'd heard him called many things but never Saint Jane! If that was the best she could come up with she was going to give up trying to understand the man.

She eventually got her breathing back under control, realised she was feeling warm and contented and sleepy. Still giggling to herself she climbed out of the bath and started snuffing out the candles, one by one.


End file.
